


My veela romance

by Craftybadger1234



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Food Issues, M/M, Manipulation, My Chemical Romance References, Songfic, Switching, The Black Parade, Top Draco Malfoy, Veela, Veela Draco Malfoy, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 11:05:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13480176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Craftybadger1234/pseuds/Craftybadger1234
Summary: At 26 years old, Draco has nothing. Suddenly he's a veela and is determined to ensnare someone that can take care of him. Enter Harry and...Towards the end, Draco and Harry bond while listening to My Chemical Romance's "Black Parade" cd so included those tags. I dropped lyrics into the story, but not in large overwhelming chunks.





	My veela romance

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I don't own MCR or HP, right? Black Parade has become my favorite cd and I've been listening nearly nonstop for the 2 months since I discovered it. Where was I in 2006? Ah yes, up to my eyeballs in Dora the Explorer and Blue's Clues. 
> 
> I changed up the allure a little bit because I felt like it. 
> 
> I had paragraph issues when I went to post so if the spacing is off, I apologize and will fix it when I can.

Draco sat in the back corner of a tiny cafe, nursing the cup of coffee he bought with his last few knuts. It was time to troll the Manor again for shit to sell. Draco dropped his head into his hands and bit back a groan. How did this become his life? 

Twenty six years old and it was all over. Parents dead, friends gone, prospects evaporated. What was he carrying on for? He huddled into his threadbare cloak and sighed. He was going to have to start selling the special pieces he'd locked away. Somehow that felt like giving up, but better to live without his family’s final treasures than to starve. 

He was considering fetching a spoon for the sugary sludge at the bottom of the cup when a shadow fell across the table. 

“Oi, Malfoy. Skeezy little brat. Whatcha doin’ in a place wi’ decent folk?”

Fuck. 

Draco lifted his hands to show he was unarmed. He smiled, conscious not to show too many teeth and appear threatening. “Just finishing up. I'm leaving now. No need for - “

He cut off when rough hands grabbed the front of his thin robes and jerked him to his feet. “We'll ‘elp you out.”

The alley was comically stereotypical. Dank walls, rubbish everywhere, scent of urine. When they threw him against the bins, a cat screeched and ran for it. 

He knew there was no use fighting back, or even pulling his wand. Every six or eight months this happened and it was easier to just take it. He only hoped someone would find him before the cold October air froze his lungs, or any more scars became permanent. 

Pain lanced through his spine as a bright purple light hit him. Amid his cries and the scent of blood, he heard their rough laughter. Well fuck them all. 

He was a survivor. 

\--------

“...red vial. Six drops…”

“...heart rate’s dropping again…”

“...another blood replenishing potion…”

“...we're losing him…”

“...need a curse breaker…”

\--------

Draco came awake with a groan. He wanted to curl up against the small light in the room but he was bound to the bed. Blinking and squinting, he made out the details that indicated a room at St Mungo’s. Oh good, someone found him. Why was he bound? And why did his back burn like a son of a bitch? 

He wriggled in the bed to ease his back and startled violently when a large dark shape flew up over his face. Was that a wing? 

A shrill cry tore from his throat.

He writhed on the bed, trying to sit himself up. His palms burned hot. Outside the room, an alarm was blaring. The wing flapped again, putting an unbearable pressure on his back. Another piercing shriek sounded.

“Mr Malfoy! Stop, you'll hurt yourself! Stop!” A healer in bright green robes pulled her wand and shot him with a strong immobilizing charm. The wings hung from the bed at an odd angle, and quietly he moaned against the pain in his spine. 

“Mr Malfoy, it's all right. You're safe here. You're in St Mungo’s. Do you remember being attacked?” She opened a jar on the table next to the bed and spread a cooling gel on his palms. The fiery feeling faded away.

He whimpered softly, his eyes darting around the room. Feebly, one wing fluttered. Seeing it, the healer tucked the wing in close to his body. Moving around the bed, she did the same to the other wing. He sighed in relief. 

“Are you all right now? I'm going to let Healer Matthews know you're awake while you calm down a bit, okay? I'll be back in just a few minutes and then I'll remove your bindings.”

His face burned as though parts were melting off. A nervous trill sounded. It went up in pitch as he started to panic again. Why couldn't he speak? His eyes caught on the edges of a beak where his mouth used to be. Fucking hell! What happened while he was out? 

“It's all right, take a few deep breaths. Your voice will come back. You just have to remember you're safe here. Deep breaths now. That's it.” 

He focused on her smiling face, breathing in and out. There was another light burn across his face, and the beak disappeared. 

The healer smiled widely, “That's it. Very good, Mr Malfoy. Better now?”

He nodded and licked at his lips. His voice was raspy as he asked, “Could I get some water?”

“Of course!” She filled a glass on his bedside table with an aguamenti and helped him drink. 

“How long have I been here?”

“Four days. You were hit with some nasty curses. We actually lost you for a few minutes but as you can see, you're safe and sound.”

He felt the pull of the wings when they fluttered. 

“Yes, well, some things are different but Healer Matthews will be in to speak with you about that. Will you stay calm if I remove the bonds?”

He nodded. When he was finally released, he sat up in the bed, against the headboard, with his knees drawn up to his chest. He rubbed absently at his wrists while the wings came around his body, mostly shielding him from view. 

“I'm going to get your lunch, and let Healer Matthews know you're awake. If you need anything, press the call button, all right?”

He nodded again and she smiled as she left the room. Draco fought back tears but then thought fuck it, and let them fall. The wings pressed in tight, blocking the little light in the room. 

When he finally emerged from his cocoon, mostly all cried out, there was a tray on his bedside table with a pitcher of water, a bowl of mixed berries, and some baked chicken. He nibbled at it until he felt strong enough to get up. On wobbly legs he stood next to the bed. He was sore all over and slightly off-balance. Taking tentative steps, he crossed to the bathroom to look at his new appearance in the mirror. 

He ignored the way his skin stretched tight over his bones and the evidence of his crying jag, focusing on the brand new wings. They were a deep grey color, made up of tiny scales that were thin and soft. If he focused hard, he could feel them emerging from his spine, like an extra set of arms. He had become his namesake. Just like an Ironbelly. Except for the beak. Fucking hell, he had a beak. 

A soft knock at the door preceded the entrance of a healer. She smiled when she saw Draco out of bed, and came forward for a handshake. Draco’s wings fluttered again but he shook her hand and nodded when she introduced herself as Healer Matthews. 

“Would you like to sit, Mr Malfoy? We have much to discuss.” While he perched at the head of the bed, knees again pulled up to his chest, she conjured a simple padded chair for herself. 

“You gave us quite a scare there. Do you remember any of what happened? No? Well you were attacked with a variety of rather vicious spells. You were dead for nearly two minutes.”

Draco tried to keep his face impassive. Damn half-wits, couldn't even have killed him properly. And now this. 

“We're not entirely sure the specifics of what happened but a combination of the curses, the brief death, and the cures seem to have raised up a dormant veela gene.”

“Veela?”

“Yes! These past few days, your body has been shifting and growing to accommodate the changes. Congratulations on your new status as a medical miracle!” She laughed at his black scowl. 

“This is permanent?” he asked quietly. His throat was still raw. 

“I'm afraid so. I know it's a shock, but it won't be so bad. Right now, you're rather undernourished but when you get your health back, you'll be able to stow the wings, so to speak. You'll look just like your old self in no time.”

Draco didn't want to tell her that undernourished was his regular state these last few years. 

“I'd recommend learning a few techniques for controlling your temper to prevent unwanted transformations in public. In the meantime, I'll write you a prescription for more of the gel for your hands. It'll help you control the desire to conjure fire.”

“This is a fucking nightmare,” Draco said, dropping his head into his hands. His wings flared out but he focused on pushing them back. “Am I - am I going to have to find a mate?”

“No, actually, veela needing a soul mate is a myth. But you'll find that your magic will react differently to the people around you. You might favor some people over others because of the way your magic responds. That's where the myth comes from. No need to worry about some sort of pining or wasting disease.”

“Is there anything else?”

“You will find, as your health improves, that you attract more attention. That is the allure all veela have. With practice, you'll be able to control it somewhat, to keep people tripping all over themselves to get at you. Practice working with your wings so they can be used defensively. My experience is people attack when confronted with a wand, but will back down peacefully if brushed off with a wing.”

Draco nodded morosely.

“We'll keep you here another few days, so we can be sure you're not having complications. There are a few Unspeakables that would like to speak with you, if you're up for that. And Healer Miller will be following up, making sure you're eating. You’ll find a change in your appetite, specifically an increased need for protein.”

Draco snorted derisively. He could barely scrape a meal together as it was. At this rate, he'd starve to death in a matter of weeks. He bounced on his toes a little, hating that he must look like a bird ready to take flight. A nervous trill tumbled out. Fuck, now he sounded like a bird as well. 

“It'll be all right, Mr Malfoy,” Healer Matthews said with a pat to his hand. “Just give it time.”

And really, he had no other options. It was easy to stay hidden away in this room where he was fed regularly. Healer Miller spent time with him each day, helping him learn to control his wings. By the end of the week, he'd gained a few kilos and could move his wings much like his arms. He'd only managed to tuck them out of sight once for a few minutes but Healer Miller insisted that would get easier as he grew closer to a healthy weight. 

A team of Unspeakables came to ask him questions he had no answers to. He didn't know there were veela in his family tree, and he didn't know what curses he was hit with. Aurors had never tried hard to catch his attackers in the past and he doubted that had changed. The team went away disappointed that they couldn't decipher the mystery. 

Once he had stabilized, Healers Miller and Matthews signed his release. He was given the name of a mind healer and the location for a trauma recovery support group. They wished him luck, and encouraged him to return if he encountered any problems.

And just like that, he was on his own again. Only this time, he had a huge fucking pair of wings. 

\--------

Draco’s first priority was to get money. He wandered the echoing halls of the Manor, searching for another painting, another hideous vase, another book, another hand carved antique that could be traded for galleons. But eight years of such wanderings had left his pickings slim. 

What a fucking joke. He'd have better luck hunting the wild deer that roamed the forests on the outer edges of the property. He should fly like the fucking bird he had become and look for mice to eat. Actually… were his wings strong enough to support his weight? 

Outside, in the open expanse of the overgrown garden, Draco spread his wings wide. Taking a moment to calm his nerves and focus, he worked at flapping the wings like a bird would. He stumbled as the force knocked him off balance. 

Maybe he should run? Wasn't that what birds did? He ran through the brush, shrieking his shrill call, until his lungs started to burn from the frigid air. Giving his wings a hard flap, he rose up from the ground a few feet before tumbling hard onto the ground. 

Panting, he lay in the crinkly, dry grass, laughing like a lunatic. What would his father say to see him rolling around and trying to fly like a bird? 

Draco’s laughter faded as he realized he didn't care. 

\--------

Three days later, Draco was desperate. He hadn't had a decent meal since leaving the hospital, and a few servings of rice were not enough to sustain him. He gathered everything that was left in the Manor, except the pieces he couldn't bear to part with no matter his health, and owled Marcus Flint. 

Two hours later, the arrogant prick rolled through the floo with a smirk. He'd always been a slimy git, but since the war he'd gotten a hundred times worse. He loved having Draco under his thumb; loved walking away with Draco’s treasures and heirlooms and leaving behind a pittance. 

Draco struggled with keeping himself calm in the face of Flint’s animosity. Something welled up inside him, then dissipated like a mist. Allure. Not strong enough to influence Flint, and so Draco’s second defense welled up and he struggled to keep the fire from seeping out.

The one shining moment in the whole ordeal was watching Flint’s outright shock at Draco’s wings. He struggled to hide it, but Draco noticed the way his eyes continued to scan them. Maybe checking for glamours? Draco flexed them a time or two, just to watch him jump. 

Flint shrunk and pocketed the pieces he was taking and offered Draco a handful of galleons. There were more than Draco expected but he wasn't going to mention it. If the wings got him a few extra coins, he'd take it as his due. Flint owed him anyway. 

The problem of money taken care of, Draco worked on the next problem of actually acquiring food. He didn't want to go out with these wings trailing behind, and the horrid beak and fire simmering under his skin. Owl delivery of food was more expensive but he figured it was worth the money to avoid an incident in public. 

Wrapped in his worn duvet and a weak warming charm, Draco fell asleep with a full belly. 

\--------

Several days after Flint’s visit, Draco received a few owls from old contacts asking about his wings. The only one that interested him was from Daphne Greengrass, and only because she offered him a small recompense for permission to print his story in _Witch Weekly_. Flint’s payout would only last so long. 

A week later, he was opening the gates to Daphne and an over-excited photographer. The young man gawked at his wings while Daphne eagerly asked what, and how, and when. She gave Draco a few galleons, and promised to get in touch. 

Another flurry of owls passed back and forth and somehow Draco agreed to a full photo shoot. The next week Daphne returned with two stylists, a different photographer, and three assistants. 

In the larger ballroom, they set up their equipment. Draco had taken to wearing a sort of reverse wrap shirt he'd made from his old clothes. It covered his chest and tied at his back to leave his wings free, but they wanted him shirtless for the photos. 

The two stylists layered several glamours over his skin to cover the multitude of scars he had acquired over several years of assault. They curiously eyed the faded Dark Mark on his arm as it, too, was glamoured. They hid the circles under his eyes and darkened the pink of his lips. His hair was trimmed into an asymmetrical style and gelled to fall seductively over his eyes. 

He fought back the anger that made his face want to slide into rage-monster-with-beak form when they complimented the thinness of his frame. He resisted the loose-fitting cotton trousers that hung low on his hips, but lost the battle. A brief glance in the mirror showed him the pouty, waifish pretty-boy he would have loved to be back in school. 

Starvation could go fuck itself. 

The pictures took forever. All the while, Daphne asked question after question about his hospital stay, learning to use his wings, how he was coping, what the future held. As he was posed and photographed, he gave terse answers that hid the desperation trying to claw its way out. 

When everyone finally left, he gave in to the rage. He felt his beak come out, followed by a shrill cry. When his palms burned, he let the fire form, lobbing the flames out into the garden. They burst in a spray of sparks on the snow. 

But it was worth it for the large pile of galleons he was given. A few meals and he would be able to hide his wings enough to join the real world again. 

\--------

After _Witch Weekly_ ran his story, complete with sexy photo spread on four pages, owls began to flood the Manor. Letters came from his new fans, those requesting more photos, and curious researchers that wanted to understand the phenomenon.

The hardest were the letters from old friends that suddenly wanted back in his life. He'd pulled away from his friends just as much as they'd cut him off, because it was better for all of them. After the war, associating with him became dangerous. He nearly cried at Pansy’s note that simply said, “Is it safe yet?”

He didn't know. Now he was an anomaly. A curiosity. Something rare and apparently beautiful. The number of witches and wizards begging to mate with him was alarming. As if he'd pick some random stranger that would have spat on him if they'd seen him last month. 

No, this was a rare chance for a new start. Draco held all the cards this time and he would tread carefully. He was going to think and consider over all the options and go after someone that could and would take care of him. His allure and fame were going to be put to good use to find the one person he could ensnare forever. 

And he would eat like a king. 

\--------

Eating small but regular meals over the next week was a joyous luxury. With his improved sleep and coordination, Draco practiced hiding, revealing, and moving his wings each day. He did his best to tailor his fragile robes in case his wings needed to swing free. If seeing them kept him safe, then show them he would. 

By week’s end, he felt confident enough to visit Diagon Alley. Before leaving, he smeared his palms with the cooling gel. A beak and wings might be interesting but he was fairly certain throwing fireballs would get him in trouble.

With wings hidden, he apparated to a quiet corner of the street. As Draco walked to the small grocer he favored, who firmly believed money was money no matter who passed it over the counter, he noticed several witches and wizards staring at him. Two very young witches giggled and pointed. Several people looked suspicious of him. 

The attention was starting to make him nervous. He knew how quickly a friendly gathering could turn ugly. He let loose with a few tendrils of allure. It wasn't much, but it was enough to turn wary glances into intrigued and interested ones. Quickly, Draco threw various foods into his basket and went to pay for them.

A different pair of giggling witches passed him several times. Finally, one gained the courage to approach.  
“Pardon me, Mr Malfoy, but… Is it true about your wings? Could we see them?”

“Er…” Draco’s skin prickled from all the people watching. Many had heard the young witch and were obviously curious. He cleared his throat, “Yes, of course. Er…” He looked around for a suitable spot to open up. His palms itched and he felt sweat gathering at his temples. This was a mistake. 

Mr Callahan winked at Draco. “Perhaps, young sir, you'd like to step outside? I'll just ready this for delivery, yes?”

“Right, yes, er, thank you.”

Draco opened the door and stepped out, with a small group following eagerly. He moved toward the alley next to the grocer's but was spotted by more people. Whisperings broke out as a crowd gathered. 

“Let's see ‘em then,” someone called. 

With shaky hands, Draco unbuttoned his cloak and set it aside. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before letting his wings unfurl from their magic bindings. 

Whispers became murmurings became loud exclamations. Then there was pushing and shoving to get closer, to touch his wings. The soothing cold on his palms faded as his anxiety rose and he felt the hard tugs on his back. 

Draco started to back away but people crowded from all sides, close enough he couldn’t fold his wings in. “Thank you... Pardon me... Yes, I have to go now... Please...” His heart clamored in his chest as he tried to extricate himself. He took a few deep breaths but couldn't calm himself enough to hide the wings away. He was too focused on keeping his beak hidden. 

The first spell was probably an accident. Someone trying to move someone else out of the way. Another bright light, the slash of a missed spell. Regardless who started it, before long, there was a minor riot. 

Aurors popped onto the street and began immobilizing and disarming the crowd. The fire in Draco’s palms flared up, ready to defend himself if needed. He crouched against a wall, wings tucked around him so he had to peek above them.

The aurors began testing wands, to see who had fired into the crowd, releasing those that had done no harm. Draco was glad his own wand was near useless and he’d not bothered to draw it. When an Auror finally noticed him sitting off to the side, Draco had managed to hide his wings and was patiently waiting his turn. It wouldn’t do to anger them after he’d more-or-less started the whole thing.

“Mr Malfoy, your wand please.” 

Draco handed it over without comment. It revealed that he’d last used it to apparate. “Am I free to go?” he asked quietly.

“Not just yet. We’ll need a statement from you.”

Draco wanted to argue. No one else with a clear wand had been asked to stay. But no one else had two huge fucking wings either, so he nodded and followed the Auror to the line of witches and wizards giving their statements. When several eyes lit up at his approach and hands began to reach for him, he was diverted to another area.

“Potter!” Draco said in surprise. He hadn’t seen or heard much of the Chosen One in years. Potter had filled out nicely, and had the healthy glow and bright eyes Draco recognized as evidence of good eating. 

“Malfoy,” Potter said with a smile. He scanned Draco, probably looking for wings as the crowd had earlier, then nodded at the Auror that escorted Draco, “What do we have?”

“His wand was clear but based on the other statements, I thought it best he be detained.”

“Right, of course. Malfoy, in your own words, can you tell me what happened?” He smiled encouragingly at Draco.

While Draco described the shopping, the wings, the crowd, he considered Potter standing in front of him. He met all the criteria Draco had mentally listed as a potential target. He had money and good standing, and was not likely to lose either. He wasn’t sure whether Potter was interested in men at all, but with his allure, that hardly mattered. Draco let loose a small wave of allure, to test the waters.

Potter shifted subtly as he jotted down notes from Draco’s testimony. He sighed heavily and leaned in closer to Draco. When he looked up, Draco noticed his pupils had dilated and his cheeks were lightly flushed. Good, it wouldn’t take much to win him over.

Potter cleared his throat and looked down at his notepad. “Well, I think you’re free to go now.”

“Really? That’s it?”

“Er, yeah. Lucky you didn't cast anything this time. But maybe next time, you’ll take a bit more care with the - the wings?”

“Yes, right. This was my first time out since - since the photos. Now, I guess, I’ll know better for next time.” Another small drizzle of allure...

Potter smiled widely, “It was good seeing you. Maybe… “

Draco raised his eyebrows expectantly as Potter trailed off.

“Maybe you’d like to get a drink sometime?”

“Absolutely,” Draco smiled. “Owl me.” With a parting nod, he apparated back to the Manor.

Time to make plans.

\--------

Draco frowned into his closet. He didn’t really have anything appropriate for his date with Potter. Not one to waste time, Potter had asked to meet up that evening so Draco didn’t have time to shop for new robes with his _Witch Weekly_ money. The clothes he had left were all too worn to accept the kind of tailoring charms he needed any longer. 

With a sigh, he brushed off the nicest pair of trousers and a button down shirt, and glamored the threadbare areas as best he could. Hopefully he could keep his wings in well enough so they didn't damage the shirt. 

He met Potter in a small, (thankfully) dimly lit restaurant. It was obviously muggle, and shabby muggle at that, so his attire was not wholly out of place. 

“Where’s your cloak?” Potter asked without preamble.

“I lost it, earlier. In the - the mess,” Draco said sheepishly. He smiled at the waitress and ordered a hot apple cider. “I’ve got on the heaviest warming charm I can manage.”

“That’s not enough. It’s November!”

Draco shrugged and cast about for another topic. Perhaps more allure? He smiled when Potter sat up a bit straighter and brushed his hair back from his face. “I’m fine. And you, how are you?”

“Good. I’m good. Very good.” Potter’s green eyes brightened when Draco reached for his hand.

“What sort of plans did you make for us?” he asked. The waitress returned with his cider and Draco drank deeply, letting the warmth sink into his bones. 

“I didn't really think much beyond dinner.”

“That's all right,” Draco said. “Just dinner is a good start.” He traced along Potter’s wrist. After another sip of cider, he licked along his lips. Potter’s mouth dropped open a little as his eyes traced the path of his tongue. Draco had to admit the look was sexy, if he was interested in such things. But sex hadn’t been a priority for him in too long.

When the waitress returned to take their order, Draco indicated Potter should order for them. Draco declined a bottle of wine to share, but eagerly agreed to the starters Potter mentioned. Potter also ordered two main courses for himself, saying he couldn’t decide. And asked the waitress for a sample of several desserts to end their meal.

Plate after plate of food arrived all evening as they got to know each other again. Or rather, Draco learned about Potter. He wasn’t ready to share his woeful tale just yet and instead focused on seducing Potter.

While Potter went on about his post war Auror training, Draco brushed his fingers along Potter’s hand. While Potter went on about his early career on one mission after another abroad, Draco licked his lips and smiled wickedly. While Potter went on about his friends and what they were doing now, Draco tucked his fringe behind his ear, tracing the lobe as he went. While Potter went on with question after question about Draco, he simply deflected and moaned appreciatively over his food. 

By the end of the evening, when they were walking to a safe apparition point, Potter was near panting after him. Draco drew him in for a kiss and whispered, “Goodnight, Harry,” into his ear. 

Potter’s hands came around his waist and held him tight for another kiss. “Don’t leave. Not yet. Come back to mine? Please?”

Draco deliberated quickly. The plan was to draw this out until Potter was mad with lust and would give in to whatever Draco demanded. He didn’t want to move too fast and make Potter regret his actions in the morning. On the other hand, he didn’t want to give Potter time to let him go.

“I’d love to,” Draco said with a smile.

Potter hardly paused when they landed in the bedroom of his flat. His hands roamed all over Draco and his mouth sucked along Draco’s jaw. Draco’s magic prickled under his skin and he wanted to shove Potter away, but he needed this to go well so Potter would keep him. He buried his hands in Potter’s messy hair and kissed him hard to chase away thoughts of whoring himself out. He wasn’t a whore if he only had the one lover, right?

He pushed Potter onto the bed and used a spell to divest him of his clothes. His wand was shit so mostly he only managed to open all the fastenings and send one shoe spiraling off. Close enough. He ran his hands down Potter’s chest and into his pants as the allure took hold of him. Draco kissed and licked at the skin of Potter’s chest and belly while his hands stroked Potter’s cock with a rapid pace. Even though he was full of energy from their meal, he wasn’t sure how long the allure would last and he needed Potter too weak to notice anything else.

When Potter finally came, Draco watched impassively as his body shuddered and hot spunk covered his belly. Draco cast a cleaning charm, and then a second one when the first was too weak to get all the mess. He pulled off Potter’s clothes, and borrowed a pair of pyjamas for himself. 

“What about you?” Potter asked sleepily when Draco came to bed. 

“Already taken care of,” Draco responded, snuggling up in his warm pyjamas, belly more than full. 

“Mm… being your mate is going to be the best thing ever.”

Draco laughed at that and curled into Potter, falling into a deep sleep. 

He woke to an empty flat the next morning, only a note in the kitchen, along with a breakfast large enough for three people.

_Draco, I had to head into work early today. I made breakfast but I didn’t know what you liked so I made a variety. Let’s get dinner around 7:00. - H_

Draco happily ate every single bite of food.

\--------

That afternoon, Draco owl-ordered ingredients for a special dinner for the two of them. He'd become quite a culinary expert after years of so little to eat. 

“Wow, what smells so good?” Potter asked as he came into the kitchen. He peered over Draco’s shoulder into the skillet, and wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist.

“I thought a quiet dinner here would be nice. It’s nothing much - “

“No, it’s great. Perfect.” Potter turned Draco in his arms for a kiss. “I brought home a strawberry cheesecake. We can share it after dinner.” He rubbed his cheek on Draco’s cheek.

Although his skin still prickled at the contact, Draco let his wings unfurl through the slits in his robes to wrap around them both. Potter sighed contentedly while Draco swayed them back and forth. Allure made Potter grip him tighter and roll his hips against Draco. Draco kissed his neck then gently pushed him away.

“Go get cleaned up and relaxed. I’ll finish here so we can eat.”

Potter groaned in protest but smiled and did as asked. By the time he came back in joggers and t-shirt, Draco had tucked his wings away and the table was set with their meal. 

As he ate, Potter smiled at Draco, “This is nice, you and me. Better than I imagined.”

“Is it?” Draco asked with a saucy wink. He didn't mention the years since the war when Potter and his lot hadn't given him the time of day. “I guess the photo shoot was worth it if it drew your eye.”

Potter gave him a half-smile and buttered a second roll for Draco. “I've been watching you for much longer than that. Never really dropped the habit after school.”

A chill ran down Draco’s spine at the same time a burst of flame shot from his palm into the napkin clenched in his fist. “Oh fuck! I'm so sorry!” He dumped his glass of water over the burning cloth and gathered the soggy mess to throw away. 

“Hey, it's all right. Here, let me.” Potter flicked his wand at the mess, vanishing it all together. “Are you all right? No burns?”

“No,” Draco cleared his throat. “No I'm fine. The fire is a - a side effect. Sometimes it just happens. I have a gel…” He pulled the little jar from his pocket and awkwardly coated his palms, avoiding Potter’s eyes. 

“It's fine, don't worry about it,” he said with a smile. “Want a glass of wine? Help you relax?”

“Thank you, but I'll stick to water.” When Potter continued to stare so earnestly, Draco squirmed and continued, “I'm nearly three years sober.”

“Oh!” Potter looked at his glass of wine and the bottle sitting next to him. “I didn't know. I'll just…” Before Draco could protest, Potter banished the bottle of wine to a kitchen cupboard and summoned a clean glass. He filled both of their glasses with an aguamenti. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you.” Draco’s meal tasted like chalk but he continued eating nonetheless. 

“Three years, that would be around when your mother died?”

Draco’s stomach clenched against the familiar guilt. He looked down at his plate, struggling to keep his food down. “Er, yes. I had hit rock bottom at that point and knew I'd drink myself into the grave next to her if I didn't stop.”

“I wondered why you weren't at the funeral.”

Draco’s head shot up in alarm. “You were at her funeral?”

“Yeah, Andromeda wanted me to go, in case there was trouble like at Lucius’s funeral. But there was no one there.”

“Oh, I didn't know.” Draco chewed his lip. “By then, it was safer for everyone to stay away. I didn't even know Aunt Andromeda was there til much later. We haven’t really kept in contact.”

Potter reached out and squeezed his hand. “I'm sorry.”

The tight band around Draco’s heart eased a little. He hated to admit, even just to himself, that he was grateful Potter had attended his mother's funeral. It was one of his deepest regrets he’d been too drunk to attend. Wiping away a few stray tears that gathered, Draco blatantly changed the subject away from his mother. 

While they chatted about the Ministry and Potter’s coworkers, he continued sending nervous glances at Draco. Not wanting to ruin the progress he'd made, Draco let his allure smooth things over. 

“I, er, bought you something. I hope it's okay,” Potter said sheepishly. He summoned a large box from the bench by the front door. 

Inside was a heavy wool cloak, three shirts in shades of grey, and two plain black robes, all cut for his wings. 

“Harry…” Draco said in amazement. “This is… it’s too much.”

Potter scrubbed at his hair with a half shrug, “Not really. You said you didn't have a cloak and I figured you needed new shirts for your wings.”

“I don't know what to say.” Inwardly, Draco smiled at his success. Two days in and he was already getting presents. He let his allure loose to wreak havoc with Potter’s system. 

Potter groaned and dragged him to the sofa in the sitting room, frantically working his robes open.  
Draco was glad he’d taken the time to glamour the various scars on his chest. Potter licked and kissed all over, working his way down to Draco’s cock. That wouldn’t do at all; he couldn't have Potter disappointed in his lack of interest. Draco pushed Potter back and straddled his lap. He ran a line of kisses down Potter’s jaw to his mouth, bleeding allure heavily. 

When Draco slid off his lap to the floor, Potter gave a heavy groan and dropped his head back on the sofa. Draco yanked the joggers down to expose Potter’s hard prick. After a few tiny licks to get it wet, Draco swallowed down as much as he could. While his head bobbed up and down, he ran his hands up and down Potter’s thighs, squeezing gently as he went. 

“Fuck, Draco, that feels amazing!” Potter moaned. Of course it did; allure could make skele-gro feel like heaven. When Potter’s thigh muscles tensed and his breath hitched, Draco hit him hard with a heavy dose of allure. His eyes rolled back in his head and he couldn’t even cry out as he came down Draco’s throat, his hand buried in Draco’s hair.

Draco crawled back up into Potter’s lap and rested his head on Potter’s shoulder. Potter sighed and absently caressed Draco’s back, trailing little prickles along the skin as he went. Draco wondered if it was possible to get Potter to come without any physical touch at all, just allure. That would certainly make his job easier.

“You’ll have to let me return the favor,” Potter said sleepily. He dropped a kiss on the top of Draco’s head. “But later, because I’m wrung out. That was intense.”

“That’s a sweet offer but you don’t have to.”

“Maybe I want to.”

Draco stood, pulling a loopy Potter with him. “Come along, let’s get to bed.” He dressed in warm flannel pyjama bottoms and a long sleeved t-shirt of Potter’s. They curled up in the bed together, warm, sated, and full. 

And if his dreams were haunted by images of Potter watching him die slowly, beaten and starved, Draco forgot it by morning. 

\--------

A few nights later they went out to dinner in a more public magical location. There were whispers and people pointing but Potter didn't seem to care. He shared everything on his plate with Draco, and ordered one of each dessert the restaurant had to offer. 

When the first _Daily Prophet_ pictures of their date appeared, Potter cut them out and stuck them to the fridge with a happy grin. They looked like besotted fools on their honeymoon; it was perfect. Letters poured in from people enthralled by the combination of Draco’s newfound fame and Potter’s neverending fame.

There were also, of course, many howlers. After listening to diatribes about poisoning by worthless Death Eater scum, Potter gathered the ashes into a pile and stomped on them with a funny little shake of his hips. 

“What are you doing?” Draco laughed. 

“Dancing on the ashes. Like I give two fucks about idiots that don't know me or you. We're great together and they can all just fuck off. Come dance with me.”

“We've only been together a week!”

Potter pulled Draco in close and hummed a little tune as they swayed, kicking up ashes as they went. “I've known you since we were eleven.”

“That's not the same,” Draco said softly. “You don't even know me anymore.” His wings slid out and wrapped around them both. 

“It's close enough,” Potter replied, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder. 

The following weekend was the next big hurdle to jump, dinner with Weasleys. Potter was happy to share a meal with his two best friends but Draco knew as soon as they rolled through the floo that this was more reluctant interview than friendly dinner. This was not the sort of thing allure could smooth over.

Granger accepted his offered flowers with a terse smile. Weasley took the bottle of spiced peach cider with a bemused look. 

“For tonight,” Potter said, taking Draco’s hand. He winced at the heat Draco was putting off. “Why don't you go open it? We'll join you in a minute.”

As soon as they were gone, Draco dug in his pocket for his gel. He fumbled it with a mumbled, “Fuck!”

Potter picked it up and helped smear it on his shaky palms. “All right?”

“They are most definitely _not_ happy to see me.” The hair on the back of his neck was still standing on end and he was fighting to keep his beak from slipping out. The cold gel helped him focus a little better. 

“Just give them a bit of time they'll come around. You'll be okay?” Potter kissed his cheek and squeezed his hands. Rather than annoy as it usually did, Draco found comfort from his only support in the household. 

“Yeah, all right. Better now.” Taking a deep breath, Draco followed Potter into the kitchen where Granger and Weasley were finishing up dinner. 

“So you two have had a whirlwind week and a half,” Granger said, handing them both glasses of peach cider. 

“Yeah we have,” Potter said with his goofy smile. He winked at Draco and continued, “It's been fun, reconnecting.”

Granger frowned. “That implies you were connected at some point before.”

“Hermione, you agreed to be polite,” Weasley sighed. 

“I'm being polite. It's not rude to point out that the last time we spoke with Malfoy - “

“Please, call me Draco.”

She darted a glance at him and continued, “ - we were on less than pleasant terms.”

“Well we're trying now, and it's been good,” Harry said with a smile. 

“Indeed it has been,” Draco agreed with a return smile. He smothered the nervous trill that tried to escape when he felt their animosity. Adrenaline filled his bloodstream, and his shoulder blades itched with the effort of keeping his wings in. 

As they ate, Potter kept the conversation light, getting the Weasleys to talk about their two children. They still managed to throw in little digs at his budding relationship with Potter but Draco did his best to ignore it. 

After a pointed comment about the vitriol of public opinion on Draco’s past, his palms began to burn. He dug in his pocket for his gel again. Alarm shot across Weasley’s face and a second later, his wand was in hand, pointed at Draco. 

Already on edge, that was all it took for Draco’s face to shift. He screeched as his wings shot out. Another shriek and he had leapt across the room, knocking pictures of the kids off the wall. 

Granger pulled her wand as well and shot a stunning spell at Draco, which glanced off a wing. 

“Hermione! Ron! Stop it! Fuck!” Potter knelt on the floor by Draco, who was perched on the edge of the sofa. “It's all right. It's all right. They're putting the wands away.” He turned to his two friends and scowled, “Put your fucking wands away! There,” he said to Draco, “see, it's all right now.”

Draco shrieked again, then cocked his head and trilled at Potter. He held out his hands, with tiny flames dancing on his palms. 

“All right, I'll get your gel, yeah?” Harry summoned the jar from the floor and stood, showing it to Draco. He opened the jar and gingerly smoothed gel over Draco’s palms, making soothing noises as he worked. 

Draco rested his head on Potter’s shoulder and trilled softly. 

Potter turned back to his friends, both staring in horrid fascination. “Thanks for the invitation but I think it's time we left. Say hello to Molly, Arthur, and the kids for me.”

Without waiting for a reply, he wrapped his arms around Draco and apparated them back to his flat. 

He sat Draco on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, and said, “I'm going to make some tea for us, all right? You're okay here?”

Draco wrapped his wings tightly around himself as answer. Potter was gone for nearly twenty minutes, giving Draco privacy to calm himself down. 

“I'm so sorry Harry,” he said as Potter sat with a tea tray, “that I ruined our dinner. I know this was important to you.”

“It wasn't you that ruined it. They were just nervous and…”

“I know, I could feel it. It set me on edge and then he pulled his wand…” He trilled again. 

Potter wrapped his arms around Draco and kissed his temple. “It's okay now. I'll talk to Ron at work and maybe we'll try again when they aren't so defensive.”

Draco wanted to be soothed by Potter’s kisses, and the hands in his hair, but the Weasleys weren't the only ones that set his magic on edge. Now that it was the two of them again, he felt the same reluctance to relax with Potter as he did before. 

He sighed, too tired and too nervous to woo Potter with his allure. But Potter didn't seem to mind, content to just hold Draco and feed him bits of cheese toasties and fruit. 

When a silver terrier came, asking after them, Potter returned his stag with a curt, “We're fine.”

“Do you want to go home? Or will you stay the night with me?”

Draco wanted to go home, but recognized the advantage of letting Potter comfort him after that fiasco. He cleared his throat and said softly, “I'd like that. To stay here with you.”

Potter smiled and helped Draco into pyjamas and then into bed. Draco slept soundly, with Harry Potter firmly in his corner. 

\--------

“Good evening, gorgeous,” Potter said, pulling Draco from the sink full of potatoes he was washing. He nuzzled into Draco’s neck and sighed when Draco wrapped them in his wings.

After several silent minutes, Potter pulled away with a kiss on Draco’s cheek as he went to the fridge for a bottle of pumpkin juice. “Are you going to waste the whole evening peeling potatoes? Why don't you just use your wand?”

Unwilling to discuss his shitty wand, Draco told a different truth. “It's nice to do it by hand. It's one more way of savouring it.” Draco’s stomach clenched remembering the meticulous care he'd used in preparing food in the past, to hold off eating it for as long as possible.

“Let's go out instead!”

Inwardly Draco groaned. “I thought you liked eating at home. I’m going to make the latkes you love.” 

“We can have that tomorrow.” Potter took hold of his hands and looked pleadingly at Draco. “Please? You never want to go out.”

Draco sighed down at their joined hands. Potter had been pushing harder and harder all week to get Draco to go out in public with him. Anything, he supposed, to move past the awkward episode with the Weasleys last week. “Yeah, well, the last time I went out didn’t end so well for me.”

Potter pulled him close and kissed his cheek, “Are you sure about that? Nothing at all about that day was good?”

With an eye roll, Draco laughed, “All right, one or two good things happened that day. It’s just… it’s scary. And I just know from - from experience how quickly that can turn ugly.”

“Don’t you trust me to keep you safe?” Potter twirled his wand in his hands. “I’m a fairly competent Auror, you know.” When Draco’s mouth twitched, Potter pressed his advantage, “I want them to see you on my arm. To know you’re mine.”

Draco’s eyebrows drew down. “You actually _want_ the press to see you? That’s unusual.”

“I just want…” He pulled Draco back into a hug and mumbled into his neck, “I want you to be safe and if they know you're mine you will be.”

“That doesn't make sense, Harry. Some people hate us being together.”

Potter kissed Draco and rubbed circles on his back, “But if they think I’m your mate, they won’t approach you, right? It’ll keep you safe even when I’m not with you.”

Draco loved when Potter referred to himself as Draco’s mate. It served Draco’s purposes to let him believe such a thing existed so he never argued the point. Only three weeks together and Potter was thoroughly devoted to Draco. Near blinding orgasms every night would do that to a person.

“All right,” Draco said with a resigned smile. “Let’s go out.”

They had a nice dinner, despite whispers and stares in their direction. Then they walked down Diagon Alley to start Potter’s Christmas shopping. 

Fans of Potter or Draco, or both, came up to them constantly for attention. Draco was finally persuaded to let his wings loose so they could be admired. He gripped Potter’s hands tight, fear thrumming just below the surface. But it all went well. They took a few photographs and signed a few autographs. 

At home, Draco laughed about it. “A few weeks ago, those people wouldn’t have spit on me if I was on fire.”

“I told you you needed me,” Potter said with a smile. He came up behind Draco and caressed his wings, then wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and rested his head between his shoulder blades. “I want to keep you. Forever. Move in with me.”

Draco asked, turning awkwardly in his arms. “Isn't that moving a bit too fast?”

“Not if I’m your mate, right? Shouldn’t you stay close to me?” He rubbed his cheek on Draco’s and Draco obliged with a bit of allure. Potter’s eyes widened and he leaned in to kiss Draco’s neck. “Move in with me and let’s fuck in every room.”

There were going to be complications. Draco had to continue glamouring his skin. Probably move beyond blow jobs and hand jobs to real sex. It would be harder to hide his disinterest then. They would get more owls and howlers complaining that Draco was enslaving their Chosen One. 

But it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. Regular meals these few weeks had made him stronger, and there was little he wouldn't do to keep them coming.  
He took a deep breath and felt some of his anger slip away. This commitment from Potter reassured him that he was winning, that he would be safe. Instead of abrasive, Potter’s arms felt warm and comforting. This was the right decision. 

With a cooing trill, he pulled Potter to the bedroom. 

\--------

Three days before Christmas, Draco spent the afternoon shopping for a present for Potter. Things had developed nicely between them. Each evening, when Potter returned from work, Draco wrapped them in his wings until Potter sighed and went to change. It was his favorite time of day. Potter’s touch no longer irritated Draco’s skin, and best of all, he went to bed with a full belly every night.

Potter had given him muggle money so he didn’t have to venture out into the wizarding world on his own. Muggles were much less susceptible to his allure. Only moderately happy with the jumper and music he’d decided on, he hurried off with a curse at the time. He’d taken longer than he’d thought and now he was cutting it close to beat Potter home from work.

He apparated directly into their bedroom so he could hide the presents away before heading to the kitchen to see about dinner. Coming down the hall, he heard Potter and Granger arguing in the sitting room.

“Don’t you think you’re moving just a little too fast?” she snapped. “It’s not even been two months and he’s already living here!”

“I know, but it’s been good! Really good! I like having him here, all right? Is that so bad?” Draco smirked at Potter’s words.

“Yes! Yes it is, when you know he’s just using you! Don’t you even want to know what he wants?”

“Who cares? It’s working fine, right? We’re both happy! Can’t you just be happy for me?“

“You're being ridiculous! This is Draco Malfoy! A few months ago you were going on about his latest attack and how dangerous he was!”

“Yeah, well, I was wrong and he's not like that. And I'm his mate, it’s my job to take care of him like he takes care of me!”

“You are not his ‘mate’! There is no such thing!”

Shock hit Draco like an arrow. It was worse than he thought if Granger was telling Potter such things. Would he call Draco on his bullshit? 

Granger continued, “Or are you too caught up in what you _feel_ to listen? You’re playing with fire, Harry, and you know it!”

“Get out,” Potter bit out.

“Harry, I didn’t mean - “ she sighed. 

“Get _the fuck_ out Hermione!” he shouted back. 

Draco heard her move to the floo and the whoosh of the fire. A second later something shattered against the wall. 

Hesitantly, Draco stepped into the sitting room. Potter whirled to face him, eyes wide and face flush with anger. “Draco! I didn’t realize you were back.” He sighed, “How much did you hear?”

“Enough I suppose.” Draco hugged himself and looked at the floor. Nervously he nibbled at his lip. 

Potter ruffled his hair. He reached out to pull Draco’s arms down and curled into Draco with his hands tucked under his chin. Draco was left to wrap his arms around Potter’s waist. With a fond inward eye roll at this adorable display, he unfurled his wings to wrap around them both. Potter sighed heavily and nuzzled into Draco’s neck.

“It’s not like it sounds,” Potter murmured. 

“What does it sound like?”

“I like how you make me feel. I love being in your cocoon. And - and I know I’m taking advantage of you, but I can’t give it up. I need you. Need this.” Potter let his arms drop to circle Draco’s waist. He pulled him close and inhaled Draco’s scent. He pressed his hips forward to knock into Draco. Draco obliged with a soft wave of allure.

“ _Do you_ want to know what I want?”

Potter’s voice cracked, “No.” He gripped Draco tighter. “I’m so sorry. I don’t - I can’t right now.”

“Shh, Harry… “ Draco rubbed soothing circles on Potter’s back and kissed his cheek. “It’s all right now.” When he felt the shift in Potter’s mood, he pulled his wings back and led them to their bedroom. 

Draco took care to strip Potter slowly, dropping kisses and caresses on each bit of skin as it was exposed. Coupled with his allure, it didn’t take long for Potter to moan out his orgasm. Draco cleaned him up and tucked them into bed.

“Did you…” Potter asked softly, his words trailing off as sleep tugged at him.

“Yeah,” Draco lied as usual. “Shh… get some rest while I get dinner together.”

They shared a quiet meal, and hovered on the edges of awkward during the evening hours. Neither of them were willing to discuss Granger’s accusations. 

Draco tossed and turned long into the night, worried about what tomorrow would bring. There were suddenly too many variables at play and he couldn’t sort through them. Potter seemed to know more than Draco gave him credit for. He’d have to step carefully and watch his words.

And if all else failed, he would drown Potter in allure.

\--------

Draco paced nervously when he woke to an empty flat. Like the first night he’d stayed over, there was a large breakfast waiting on the table with a note.

_Draco - I had a few errands to run this morning. Be back soon! - H_

Worry stabbed at Draco but he pushed it aside as he ate the breakfast Potter had left. They’d fallen into a daily routine of Potter making breakfast and Draco making dinner. Usually it was just toast and eggs, but today Potter had also fried both bacon and sausage, made pancakes, and cut up a small fresh fruit salad. Draco ate everything, in case Potter was chucking him out and this was his last full meal.

He was just getting out of the shower when he heard Potter return. Hurriedly he finished casting his glamours, mentally cursing his sluggish wand for having to go over them several times before they were steady enough to last the day. He was pulling on his clothes when Potter came in their room.

“Ah, just my luck, I’m a few minutes late,” Potter said with a grin. He slipped his hand over the curve of Draco’s arse, under the waistband of his unfastened trousers.

Draco kissed his cheek with a loud smack and pulled back to finish dressing. “Did you get all your errands run?”

“Yeah, I did.” He ruffled his hair and blushed a little. Draco tensed, worried about what that could mean. “I hope you don’t mind, but I made us some plans for Christmas.”

“Oh,” Draco sighed, relieved he wasn’t being dismissed. “No, yeah, that’s fantastic. What sort of plans?”

“I have a cabin. It’s rather… rustic. But I thought we could go for a few days, get away from everything. Just you and me.”

“That sounds wonderful, Harry,” Draco said with a smile. 

Potter lit up with joy. “Oh good. It’s nothing glamorous or anything. But it’s a quiet space and no one can bother us there. It’s unplottable, hidden... maybe… we can talk.”

“Sounds perfect,” Draco said, running his hand down Potter’s chest. He tugged on his belt loops to draw him in for a kiss. If Granger had planted doubts, Draco would nip them in the bud. 

Potter moaned into his mouth. “Perfect, yes.” He blinked, eyes dilated and cheeks flush. “Pack. Er, you need to pack some clothes. Or not,” he added with a wicked grin. “I’ll apparate us there when you’re ready.”

Draco hurried through their room, gathering his clothes, while Potter grabbed a few more things from around the flat. 

Potter kissed him hard and whispered, “Ready?” At Draco’s nod, he whisked them away.

Small and picturesque, the cabin sported a wide covered porch and a large stack of chopped wood along one side. The clearing where it stood was blanketed in snow and he could hear water running somewhere nearby. It looked like someone had recreated the picture on a jigsaw puzzle.

Potter looked at him with a nervous smile, so Draco took his hand and kissed his cheek for reassurance. 

“I, er, built it myself. With some magic, but mostly with my own two hands.”

“Impressive. Are we going in?” Draco asked with a laugh.

“Right, yeah, come on.” Potter drew his wand and tapped the door.

Draco mentally sighed when his hopes for glossy wizard space were dashed. Rustic indeed. To his immediate right was a bed covered in a patchy quilt. On his left was a small enclosed space he hoped had a working toilet. Across the room was a kitchen and sitting area with a jumble of furniture around a small fireplace.

“It’s lovely,” he said with another kiss to Potter’s cheek. He set his bag on the bed and made a short turn around the room, taking in the pictures and knick knacks here and there.

Potter made them tea while Draco unpacked all the food to see what was available for meals. He wasn’t sure how long they would be staying but Potter had packed enough food for a whole quidditch team to stay a full week. Good, Draco was already hungry again. He was feeling so jumpy; he hoped food would calm him down a little. 

After a simple lunch, Potter suggested they go for a walk. An easy stroll soon left the forest behind for several acres of open land.

“Can you fly, with your own wings?”

Draco rolled his shoulders and said, “Maybe. I haven't had much chance to practice yet.”

“I have a few brooms if you want to fly the old fashioned way.”

“Perhaps,” Draco said with a smile. “It’s been a while.”

“The thing I hate about living in the city is the lack of open space.” He squeezed Draco’s hand and smiled. “If I lived with as much open space as you have at the Manor, I'd never stop flying!”

Draco forced a smile, “What, and mess up my hair?” He tossed his head theatrically.

“Spoiled git,” Potter laughed. He cut off abruptly when the heat in Draco’s palms flared. Shaking his hand out, he frowned at Draco. “I was only teasing, I didn't mean anything.”

Draco shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled. Clearing his throat, he forced his eyes to Potter’s. “I haven't had a broom in a long while. It's a bit of a sore spot.” 

Potter’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Oh, I thought you had several.”

Draco fiddled with his scarf and rubbed at his cheeks. Thinking of Granger and the reason they were at this cabin, Draco licked his lips nervously and said, “I had to sell them. Years ago. They were some of the first things to go, before their value dropped.”

“Oh,” Potter said, his gaze falling to the ground. “I didn’t know. Some of the first? What else have you sold?”

“This and that,” Draco said with a shrug. “It put food on the table.”

Potter scowled and shoved his hands in his pockets. He darted a glance at Draco then away. With a non-committal sound he turned back to return to the cabin, Draco following a step behind. Once inside, Potter shot a spell at the fireplace to get a roaring fire going. The small space heated quickly. Stripped down to t-shirt and jeans, Potter also enlarged the overstuffed armchair into a comfortable sofa for the two of them to share.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Potter said, running his hands through Draco’s hair. “And I’m sorry if I was flippant earlier.”

“It’s fine, you didn’t know,” Draco said, pulling away from the unexpected sting of Potter’s fingers. He covered the awkwardness by going to the kitchen to make a pot of tea, and grabbing some bread and jam to eat. He carried a tray to the sitting area and poured for them both. “Oh, forgot the milk.” He smiled absently and jumped up again to get it from the fridge.

The silence between them weighed down on Draco. They were skirting so close to sensitive issues and he couldn’t afford to lose Potter, not when things were going so well, when real happiness hovered at the edges. As he munched on his bread and drank his tea, he let loose on his allure to keep Potter thinking of the happier times he’d had these few weeks.

Potter flushed a bright red and he sighed, “Draco…” He reached out and caressed Draco’s cheek. He brushed his lips against Draco’s and sighed again. He plucked the mug from Draco’s hands and set it on the tray so he could pull Draco in for a deeper kiss. “Mmm… you feel so good. Taste so good.”

Draco crawled into Potter’s lap and pushed his t-shirt up and over his head. Draco was feeling off balance and didn't quite know how to proceed. And as usual in those moments, he fell back on his allure.

“You feel so good,” Potter groaned. “More, I want more.”

Draco scratched down Potter’s chest, while letting loose another wave of allure. Potter rolled his hips and dropped his head back on the sofa. Draco licked and kissed along his neck and whispered in Potter’s ear, “Did you ever wonder if I could make you come without touching you at all? If you could get off just from my allure?”

Hit with another wave, Potter could only moan. 

“Shh…” Draco said softly, running a soothing hand through Potter’s hair. “Let’s see how close you can get.”

Potter, eyes glazed with lust, made a soft whimper of protest when Draco moved off him to sit on the coffee table.

“It’s all right, I’m right here. Put your feet up, there you go. Now close your eyes.” Potter was laid out on the sofa, his hand rubbing idly over his jeans on his erection. “None of that now.” Draco found his wand and cast an incarcerous spell four times before enough rope came out to bind Potter’s hands loosely above his head. “Perfect. Well, nearly so.” He removed Potter’s jeans and pants and repeated, “Perfect.”

Draco ran a hand from Potter’s bound hands, down his arm, across his chest and belly, over his hard cock, and down his thigh. His touch was probably a little too hot, with the nervous fire simmering just under the surface, but Potter arched into it with another moan. 

“Draco,” he moaned slowly.

“Let’s see how much you can take, yes?” 

For the next twenty minutes, Draco watched Potter writhe on the sofa. He sent out allure in waves, some large and some small, until Potter was an incoherent mess. His cock, a vibrant red that looked almost painful, leaked steadily onto his stomach. Draco began to overheat, watching Harry enjoying himself. 

So close, and yet… clearly Potter needed a little something more to get him over the edge. Draco leaned down to lick lightly around the head of his prick. Potter gave a garbled yell and bucked his hips up. Fuck, he was going to take out Draco’s eye. Draco gripped Potter’s hips to keep him still and blew gently on his wet cock. He rolled Potter’s bollocks in his hand, then gave them a firm squeeze as he sent out another heavy wave of allure.

Potter gave a high pitched moan and then, with body drawn tight as a bow, shot come all over his chest and belly. Something hot washed through Draco as he watched Potter’s hips stutter wildly. He kept up a steady stream of allure until Potter melted into the sofa with a whimper.

Using a napkin from the tea tray, Draco cleaned him up. Potter’s body was still shuddering when Draco untied him with shaky hands, and wrapped him in a blanket. “All right, there? Good, yes?”

Potter gave a weak laugh and tried to pull Draco down next to him. Draco rested his head on Potter’s chest and absently rubbed circles on his belly, his blood still running hot through him. “You almost did it on your own. We’ll try again another time.”

Draco woke a few hours later, cold from the dying fire. He went outside for more wood, and set about reviving the fire. Looking around, he couldn’t find any matches, so he was careful not to smother the embers. He blew gently on them and was relieved when the first bits of kindling finally caught. He was afraid he was going to have to throw fire from his palms to get the fire back. 

Potter rolled over on the sofa and mumbled, “Come back, it’s cold.”

Draco smiled at the pleading tone. “Almost. I’m building the fire back up.”

“Just use your wand.”

Draco didn’t bother to respond. He heard Potter roll off the sofa and stumble to the bed. Brushing his hands off a few minutes later, he followed Potter into bed. The duvet must have a warming charm because it was already toasty warm under the covers. With the crackle of the fire in the background, Draco fell back into an easy sleep.

\--------

The cabin windows were small but they seemed to let in all the light of the rising sun straight into Draco’s eye. Unconsciously his wings shot out to wrap him up against the unwanted light. Potter yelped and fell out of the bed when he was smacked by the errant appendages. Draco mumbled an apology and snuggled down into the warm covers. 

He wanted another few hours of sleep but in the single room, it was impossible to miss the noise another person made. Potter relieving himself in the small bathroom. Potter filling the kettle. Potter pulling out pots and pans. Had Potter never heard of a silencing charm?

Draco finally shook off his blankets with the last of his sleep and trudged to the bathroom. Before leaving the only enclosed space, he checked himself in the mirror to be sure his glamours were in place. A few along his side needed refreshing but all seemed to be in order.

In the kitchen, he mumbled a good morning to Potter and accepted a kiss on the cheek. He nuzzled into Potter when it didn't prickle his skin. Potter happily fried bacon and pushed the pot of tea over to Draco.

“I suppose you slept well?” Potter asked.

“Mm,” Draco nodded. “Between the fire, the covers, and you, I was near baking. It’s a nice change. It was always so cold at the Manor.” Draco inwardly cursed himself when Potter’s smile faltered a bit. Their little conversation yesterday was making Draco forget that he wanted to hide his previous misery, not flaunt it. 

“And you?” he asked with a seductive wink.

“Er, yeah,” Potter said with a blush. “That was… incredible. I'm sorry I fell asleep before I could…”

“Not to worry, I took care of it,” Draco said with a smile.  
Potter gave him an odd, thoughtful look that made Draco nervous. He got up to retrieve an apple and a paring knife. He offered a slice to Potter. 

“Thanks,” Potter said, taking a small bite. He turned back to flipping his bacon. “How come you don't use your wand?”

Draco froze mid-slice. “I told you, I like doing my food prep by hand.”

“Yeah but you don't use it for other things either. Even simple things.” Potter moved the bacon to a waiting plate and looked curiously at Draco from the corner of his eye. He pulled a plate of eggs from the oven and set it next to the bacon. 

“The wand I'm using belonged to my great-grandfather. It's never really worked well for me.” Draco scooped food onto his plate and nibbled a few bites. 

“Nice try, but I've seen your incident reports and you've managed to cast some pretty awful hexes with it.”

Draco struggled to keep the bubbling rage at bay. He looked around for his gel but Potter beat him to it, silently summoning the jar and offering it up with a sad half smile. 

As Draco slathered a heavy layer over his palm, he said evenly, “Just how carefully did you read those reports?”

“Not very, just scanned them to see what you were up to. There were never any arrests or charges so I didn't look too closely.”

Draco laughed bitterly and went to get his wand. He closed his eyes for a moment to summon every particle of renewed anger he could muster for the idiot in front of him. Pointing his wand at Potter, he yelled, “Crucio!”

“Ow! Draco! What the fuck?” 

Draco opened his eyes to a scowling Potter rubbing a singed area of his shirt. Underneath, the skin was a bright pink. Draco sighed at his own fucking uselessness. He should have left off the gel and hit him with a fireball. 

“I have to use a heavy spell because the wand is weak for me. So in those ‘reports’ they list me using barely legal spells, when really it had the strength of a first year’s reducto.”

“Draco, that's… “ Potter shook his head, at a loss for words. 

“The rare times they caught my attacker, I was ‘encouraged’ not to press charges because of the trouble I would receive from the ‘dangerous’ spells I'd cast. Never mind they were barely a flobberworm bite. It was better not to draw my wand at all.”

“Draco, I'm so sorry. Fuck, sorry again.” He came around to hug Draco. Although Draco’s magic prickled under the skin, he accepted the hug. “It's safer for you now, though, yeah? Since we're together?”

There really hadn't been an opportunity to test that out yet but Draco nodded nonetheless. His skin started to warm where Potter held him. 

“Good,” Potter smiled. “That's good then.” He served Draco more toast and bacon, then said, “I, er, maybe have something for you.”

Draco forced a smile as he ate, “I have a Christmas gift for you as well.”

“No, it's - I'll go get it.”

Draco ate absently as he watched Potter open up the floorboards near the fireplace. He pulled a long thin box out and came over to set it on the table next to Draco. 

The food in his stomach sat like lead. “Is that… what I think it is?”

“I kept it all this time because I didn't think you needed it.” Potter blushed a little, “Actually I was just afraid of what you might do with a more powerful wand. But now…”

Draco huffed a nervous laugh, fighting back tears as he opened the box to see his beautiful hawthorn wand. His fingers caressed the space above, itching to grab it. But he'd learned to savor these moments over the years and didn't want to rush it. He set the box above his plate and watched it while he finished his breakfast.

Unbelievable that it was here after all this time. Draco’s stomach fluttered around the food he ate, his excitement near palpable. He’d been without a wand for so long, and he’d been struggling these few months to adjust to - well everything. But here was a tiny piece of the old him. Something familiar and beautiful.

It wasn't until his plate was clear and the dishes were in the sink that he finally pulled the box into his lap. “I can't believe you've had it this whole time. I figured it had been damaged or confiscated. I didn't… I thought maybe you wouldn't give it back, even if I asked.”

“Apparently we were both waiting for the right time.” Potter smiled encouragingly and squeezed Draco’s hand. Draco sighed contentedly at the touch. 

After several moments of silence, Draco carefully wrapped his fingers around the handle. The spark of energy he expected didn't happen, and a nervous trill escaped his lips. 

“Lumos,” he said quietly. Tears burned when nothing happened. “Lumos! Lumos! LUMOS!” A faint light shined from the tip. “Son of a - fucking fuck!” Draco yelled as he threw the wand across the room. 

Before he could try to hold it back, his face shifted and he was shrieking his harsh bird cry. He shrieked at Potter, then ran out the door, fire dripping from his fingertips. 

He didn't even have to think about it. A few steps from the door and he was airborne. 

\--------

Limbs trembling from the cold, Draco stumbled to the ground outside the cabin. Next time he fell into a rage and went flying in December he was going to have to remember his goggles and warmer clothing. A t-shirt and pyjama bottoms definitely were not enough. 

He fumbled with the door and nearly fell again when it opened suddenly. Without looking around for Potter, Draco went straight to the bed. He perched near the headboard, with his back to the room, and wrapped himself in his wings to warm up. 

All was quiet but the blankets scrunched themselves up around him, strengthening his cocoon, and a warming charm settled over top of it. He sighed with a contented trill and listened for sounds of Potter approaching. 

But time passed and he was left alone. In the quiet, he heard the soft crackling of the fire but nothing else. Relieved that Potter wasn't going to bother him, Draco allowed himself to relax. 

Whatever tiny grain of hope he'd been nurturing had finally been crushed. He'd always imagined finding his old wand and feeling normal for just one moment. But that was gone. He took a deep shuddering breath and exhaled slowly. He was a new creature now and the old him was gone. 

When he finally felt ready to emerge, Potter was there with ham sandwiches, cubes of cheese, blackberries, chocolate biscuits, and two mugs of hot cocoa. Draco joined him at the table, his wings fluttering nervously, and steadily downed as many calories as he could. Flying had taken a lot out of him.

“I thought maybe you'd like to decorate the cabin. For Christmas.”

Draco nodded, still avoiding eye contact. Potter reached out to hold his hand. Draco sighed at the gentle warmth that radiated out from Potter’s fingers and looked into deep green eyes. At Potter’s earnest expression, he blushed and gave a small smile. 

Potter hopped up from his chair. “Great! I gathered some pine branches and things while you were out. And I have this box of fairy lights.”

With a lopsided smile, he pulled a large jumble of lights out of a box. “Let's get some Christmas music to set the mood.”

“I have - “ Draco cleared his raw throat, “I have something for you.” He dug in his bag to find the present he had for Potter. “It's not much but… “ He trailed off with a shrug. 

“Thanks, Draco,” Potter said with a soft smile. He tore the paper off and squealed in excitement. “‘The Black Parade.’ Sounds ominous.”

“Something new for when you're cleaning house. You didn't seem to know they'd released a new album this year.”

“This is fantastic! Thank you!” Potter popped it into the cd player and bounced on his toes as the music began.

_Now come one, come all to this tragic affair  
Wipe off that makeup, what's in is despair_

Draco turned away abruptly and started looking through the pile of greenery. 

_If you look in the mirror and don't like what you see  
You can find out first hand what it's like to be me _

Smothering another sob, Draco buried his face in his hands, while his wings came around to shelter him again. He heard Potter’s approach and braced himself for the prickling sensation. But his arms were warm and comforting. Draco sighed and turned to bury his face in Potter's neck. 

“It's going to be all right, Draco,” Potter said softly. 

Draco nuzzled into his neck, then rubbed their cheeks together. He brushed Potter’s lips with his own and trilled softly. Warmth spread through Draco’s body, radiating from the places he touched Potter. And, fuck, the blood rushing through his body made him want to fly again. But better, so much better. 

“Harry…” he sighed against Potter’s mouth. “I don’t know - ” Draco’s breath hitched. He kissed Potter again, grasping at his t-shirt to pull him close. “I'm so sorry.” Draco was getting hard and he didn't know what to do with himself. 

“Draco, you don't - “

“Please…”

“Wait, let me - “

He cut off abruptly. They both turned to the stereo as the music stuttered and started back up again, something louder and faster paced. 

“Weird,” Potter said, “usually with just me there's not enough magic to - ”

He cut off when Draco pulled him in for another kiss. The music made Draco feel bold and reckless. He tore Potter’s shirt off and ran his hands down his chest. Allure bubbled up in him but he held it back. This would be just him. One last bit of the normal his wand didn’t provide.

“Wait, are you - “

Draco cut him off again with a sloppy, wet kiss. He walked them back until Potter’s legs hit the sofa and he tumbled down. Draco followed, straddling Potter’s lap. He kept kissing at Potter to keep him from talking sense into Draco. His hands worked Potter’s jeans open and plunged his hand inside to grasp at the hard cock waiting for him. 

Pausing only to pull his own shirt off, Draco took great delight in rubbing his chest on Potter’s. Fuck, how he'd missed the feel of a lover in his arms. He kept Potter’s lips occupied and moved his hand along Potter’s prick as quickly as he could, trapped as it was. He cooed and moaned at the feel of Potter’s skin on his own. He held tight to his allure, determined to be just them.

Just him, just Harry. His very own.

“Draco, wait - I want to wait for you - “

But Draco couldn't wait. Or didn't want to. He didn't know anymore. He pulled harder and faster, struggling to keep a hold on the allure that fought to break free. No allure this time. It would just be him. Just him. Something desperate and hot drove him on. His teeth nipped at Harry’s jaw and his hand flew over Harry’s cock. So close now, he could tell. He needed Harry to come, to make a mess of them both. And quickly before he lost control.

“Draco! Wait! Please!”

Harry whispered a spell that made Draco feel like he was moving through treacle. When he finally shook it off, Harry was shimmying out of his clothes and grinning at Draco.

“With me now?” Harry asked. He flicked his wand at Draco, leaving him naked as well. Harry pulled Draco to the bed, laying them down so Draco’s wings weren’t crushed. His hands coasted over Draco’s body while he licked and sucked kisses down Draco’s neck. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” Harry whispered.

Draco wanted it too. For the first time in too long, he wanted. Wanted to feel Harry’s skin against his. Wanted to bury himself in Harry’s body. Wanted Harry to claim him as his own. Wanted to drown Harry in allure so he would never leave. Wanted to bathe in the comfort Harry offered.

“Spells,” Draco moaned. “We need spells.” He struggled to remember the spells he’d learned so long ago. For safety, for ease. But he didn’t know, couldn’t remember.

His magic responded to his desperation and he heard Harry hiss when the cleaning spell burned through him. Then he moaned as conjured oil slicked his insides. When Draco slipped his fingers inside Harry, he found the muscles relaxed and waiting already.

“Now, Harry. It has to be now.” Draco’s body shuddered with the effort of holding back the allure. Harry’s scent and the sound of his moans were driving Draco to the edge. He needed more of it.

“Yes, fuck yes!” Harry groaned as Draco slowly entered him. He wrapped his legs around Draco’s waist and tilted his hips up to pull Draco in deeper. 

So hot. So tight. Fuck, this was more than Draco could stand. With barely a pause to let Harry adjust, he thrust in earnest. It was too hot, too much. “Harry! Fuck! I can’t - “ Draco couldn’t hold back anymore; he let go of his allure with a deep groan. White light shimmered at the edges of his vision and his wings flared out as his orgasm ripped through his body with violent force.

Harry screamed as the wave crashed over him. He arched his back against the onslaught, shooting heavy ropes of come between their bodies, in a seemingly endless orgasm. He clamped down so hard around Draco, it brought tears to his eyes. Sheer bliss. 

Draco trembled all over in the afterglow, his face buried in Harry’s neck. He pulled out as carefully as he could to minimize Harry’s discomfort, but there was no response. Harry lay utterly still beneath him.

“Harry? Harry!” Draco shook him hard, forcing down his panic. He sobbed in relief when Harry groaned and curled into him.

“Draco,” Harry groaned.

“Oh thank goodness! I thought I’d fucked you to death.”

Harry huffed a tired laugh and slurred, “I think I passed out. I didn’t know that was possible.”

Draco sighed in relief and lay down next to Harry. He ran his hands through Harry’s hair, and down his body. A single finger traced over Harry’s eyelid, down his nose, across his lips. He rained tiny kisses over Harry’s face and adjusted their bodies so he could wrap his wings around them both.

“I think maybe, next time, don’t hold the allure for the end,” Harry said with a weak smile.

Draco’s quiet laugh faded into a sigh. “I wanted - I didn’t want any allure. I thought it could be just me this time.” He continued caressing Harry, thoughtful now. “But I guess I have to accept that this is the new me.”

“I like the new you.” Harry lightly ran a hand up Draco’s back, brushing his fingers along the bottom of Draco’s wings.

Draco’s trill was contented, even if his thoughts were chaotic, full of his wand, his magic, his future, and Harry. The music continued on, something slower, and softer. 

“Do you think this is a love song?” he asked.

Harry mumbled, “I don’t know. I came hard enough to pass out so forgive me for not quite paying attention.”

“He said, ‘I don’t love you like I did yesterday.’ Do you think it’s a love song?” Harry made a noncommittal sound. Draco continued his caresses, smiling at the sleepy man in his arms. “Before, I hated you.” Harry opened his eyes, worry and confusion etched in his brow. Draco smoothed his fingers over the lines. “But now… now I'm starting to love you. Not like yesterday. More.”

Harry lifted his head to kiss Draco. He was slow, gentle, clearly too worn out to manage much but conveying his love nonetheless.

As the music played on, Draco listened, hoping. He sighed, “I don't think it's a love song.”

“It is now,” Harry said softly. 

Draco let his thoughts drift during the next frantic song, ready to smash the stereo but for Harry’s absent tapping on his hip. He nearly made it to sleep during the next song. But then a jaunty tune about going to hell came on. Lovely. Where did Harry get such shit taste in music? The beat of it drummed in Draco’s veins, bringing to mind the battles he’d fought in his childhood home; the rage he still didn’t know how to express.

_Mama, we all go to hell_  
_Mama, we all go to hell_  
_It’s really quite pleasant, except for the smell_  
_Mama, we all go to hell_

Well, that was just a little too specific for Draco. He unwrapped himself from Harry to turn the music off. But he wasn’t careful enough and Harry grumbled, trying to pull him back to bed. 

“It’s cold without you. Where are you going?”

“I was going to turn the music off so we could go to sleep.”

“It’s like three in the afternoon, we can’t go to sleep now. We’ll be up all night. Come back and cuddle with me, then we’ll make an early dinner.”

Draco paused at the stereo, when a woman’s voice warbled.

_And if you would call me your sweetheart,  
I’d maybe then sing you a song_

Then a man’s voice cut across it.

_But there’s shit that I’ve done with this fuck of a gun  
You would cry out - _

Draco smacked buttons until the music cut off. He huffed a nervous laugh, “This isn’t exactly relaxing music.”

“I like it,” Harry mumbled from the bed, pulling the covers back to entice Draco back in. “It’s my new favorite cd and we’re going to listen to it repeatedly until you know all the words to all the songs.”

Draco kissed Harry soundly as he pulled him in close to rest in the silence. Draco’s heart thudded against his chest and some of his helplessness faded away as he held Harry in his arms.

That evening they had a simple dinner together and went back to decorating the little cabin for Christmas. Harry transfigured little pebbles into shiny glass ornaments and bits of kindling into red bows. They went to bed that night snuggled under a warm blanket amidst twinkling fairy lights with the scent of pine in the air.

\--------

Christmas morning meant an exchange of presents. Harry wore his new charcoal-grey jumper, and Draco tried on his new flying jacket. It was warmed with special charms, and had slits to accommodate his wings. 

As he pulled on his new flying goggles, he said, “Now I’m ready for my next temper tantrum.”

Harry huffed an awkward laugh.

“What? It’s true. If I’d had these yesterday, I might have flown for longer.” He pulled the jacket edges out to examine the inside pocket. “Look, it even has a pocket for a wand, if I had a wand.”

“Why haven’t you gotten a new one?” Harry asked quietly.

“At first it was too risky, leaving the house. And then there was no money.” Draco zipped his jacket and shoved his hands in his pockets. He blinked at Harry through the goggles. “I didn’t need it anyway, and now it probably wouldn’t work after I died and all.”

“I died and my wand still works for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said with a wry smile, “did you also come back with two huge fucking wings and I somehow missed it?”

Harry shoved at Draco, “Silly git. You know what I mean. Let’s get you a new wand. Another Christmas present from me.”

“I don’t want one,” Draco laughed. “I like making you do things for me.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry laughed back, “And what if I don’t want to do things for you?”

Draco let loose on his allure. Harry sighed and crawled into Draco’s lap.

“Fuck, Draco, you don’t play fair.” Harry cupped his cheeks and kissed Draco. His tongue swept through Draco’s mouth with a groan. “Fine, no wand if you don’t want one.”

Harry wrestled with Draco’s clothes until the jacket and goggles were gone. “Mmm, want you. Want to see all of you.”

Draco laughed, “You've already seen me. Plenty of times. In your bed. In your kitchen. And everyone's seen the pictures in the magazine.”

“I mean _all_ of you, to savor. You think I haven't noticed that I haven't gotten you off even once?”

Draco gave a sheepish half shrug. Now probably wasn't the time to explain that before last night he hadn't been hard in years.

Harry pulled Draco’s t-shirt off. His grin fell as his hands smoothed their way down Draco's chest. “Draco…”

“Oh fuck!” Draco looked down to see his glamours had faded and a multitude of curse scars were now on display. He pushed Harry off his lap and stood, trying to get his t-shirt back on. “It’s not… I’m sorry, usually… I - “ he stammered and sighed, finally getting his clothes back in place. He scrubbed his hands through his hair, eyes on the floor, trying to think of a good explanation.

“What happened to you?”

Draco felt his wings unfurl to wrap around himself but Harry jumped up to stop him. 

“Please don’t hide.” Harry pulled him close and rested his head on Draco’s shoulder. “What happened, Draco?”

Draco cleared his throat, “I told you it was dangerous. Before. Those attacks and all, sometimes it left scars. I didn’t want you to see.”

“You were going to glamour yourself forever?”

“No, I mean… no that’s silly. I just… didn’t really think that far ahead.” Draco nuzzled into Harry. “I wanted to be sure you were mine first.”

“I am. Yours.” Harry rubbed his cheek on Draco’s and gave him a soft kiss, “Your very own mate, remember?”

“Harry…” Draco sighed.

“Please don’t hide from me.” Harry slid his hands under Draco’s shirt as he kissed him again. “Let me see you, let me touch you.”

Draco could only nod, swallowing around the nervous lump in his throat. Harry's fingers traced scars big and small, the odd burn here and there, and even a bullet wound. When allure swelled in defense, he let it go so as not to overwhelm Harry again. For a brief moment, Draco thought it was too much. Harry’s hands clenched on Draco’s hips but then he groaned and attacked Draco with teeth and tongue and clever fingers.

Before he knew it, they were wrapped up in one another on the bed again, their naked bodies moving together in perfect harmony. As Harry slid into Draco’s welcoming body, Draco wrapped his wings around them. He felt warm, and safe, and whole. 

After, they lay together with Harry draped across Draco’s chest. Harry whispered, “What did you want, from me?”

“Before,” Draco said softly, “I just wanted to eat. Safety and food. That’s it.”

“And now?”

“Sometimes when you’re working late, and I’m waiting with dinner… Before, I would eat and then eat again when you got home. But now, I pace and I worry, and I forget about dinner at all. I just want to wrap you in my wings and keep you safe.”

Harry sighed, “That’s my favorite thing. When it’s just the two of us and everything else fades away. You’re warm, and familiar. And you smell good and you feel good. And I just want to live in that moment forever.”

Something new erupted in Draco, from deep inside the well of his allure. The same, but different. Hotter, and more reckless. He tried to hold it back but it boiled violently against him and spilled out.

Harry groaned and buried his face in Draco’s neck, his hands grasping desperately at Draco’s hips. “Draco…” Harry shivered lightly in his arms. “What was that?”

“I - I don’t know. Are you all right?”

“That was fucking brilliant.” Harry still trembled but slowly his body relaxed into Draco’s, draped across him again like a human blanket. “If it happens again, let it. Being your mate is my new favorite thing.”

“Harry… “ Draco bit his lip nervously. “Granger was right, you know. There’s - er, no such thing.”

“I know. I don’t care.”

“You know?”

“Yeah.” Harry propped his head up to look at Draco. “You think I would pursue a veela without looking into it more? I read a bit about it and talked with some of the staff in Magical Creatures.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. But I like belonging to someone, to you.” Harry lay his head back down on Draco’s chest. “So I’m going to keep saying it.”

“Good,” Draco said quietly, with a warm glow in his heart. “Yeah, that’s good.”

“C’mon,” Harry said with a slap to Draco’s flank, “let’s get started on dinner.” As Draco dressed, Harry tugged on Draco’s shirt. “Leave it off?”

Nibbling at his lips, Draco finally nodded with a small smile. He left his wings loose as well, letting the iridescent scales shine in the fairy lights. Harry rubbed their cheeks together and kissed at Draco’s neck. “You look beautiful.”

While Draco pulled out food that needed marinating, chopping, and cooking, Harry went back to the cd player to start his music up again. A piano introduction began this time.

“This again, eh?” Draco asked.

“I told you, I’m going to play it until we know all the words.” Harry joined him in the kitchen area and started chopping vegetables.

Draco started trimming the pork. “This is the same cd?”

“Yeah it’s on shuffle. This one’s called…” Harry summoned the case. “‘Welcome to the Black Parade.’”

Draco rolled his eyes and bumped hips with Harry. They worked in silence for a while as the song moved through several musical genres.

“This band is so weird.”

“No weirder than some of the other cds I have.”

“I suppose. It’s just - it’s rather depressing, isn’t it?” Maybe not this part, Draco thought. He could relate to ‘carry on.’ Goodness knows he had long after he could have given up. 

“Yeah but I like that.”

Draco looked bemused at Harry. He set the pork roast into the oven and went to wash his hands. Brows furrowed in thought, he started making the marinade for the vegetables. 

Harry paused in his chopping, noticing Draco’s quiet. “After the war, my training and the early missions. All of it just made me feel so numb, all the time. I had a hard time connecting to friends. I couldn’t make a relationship last. I like this music because it makes me feel again.” 

Draco set the marinade aside and put the kettle on for tea. His wings fluttered when he felt Harry’s eyes on him.

“You were always different, you know? From everyone else. Always able to get under my skin. I kept an ear out for news of you, just to - even if I got angry or whatever…” He trailed off but Draco remained silent, waiting. “I thought I was keeping an eye on you but then those pictures came out, and fuck Draco. It made me sick.”

Draco’s wings drooped at that. Harry came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist, resting his head between Draco’s shoulder blades.

“No - it was - “ His hands came up to run over the soft flesh of Draco’s ribs. “I could count all your ribs, the knobs of your spine. And suddenly I was - “ he cut off with a hitched breath. “I was back in my cupboard wondering if the spiders in the corners were edible.” He squeezed Draco. Draco pulled Harry’s arms out so he could turn to hug him tight. “I knew I’d failed. That I hadn’t kept a close enough watch…”

“I wasn’t your responsibility Harry.” Draco rubbed circles down Harry’s back.

“I know. But I saved you and then didn’t think about you. Not enough. That day we met on Diagon… “ He looked up with a watery smile. “It felt like a minor miracle. I just wanted to feed you and feed you. And then there was your allure and it felt amazing. Even if it wasn't really mine.”

“And… and now?”

“Now, I see you frowning at the crossword puzzle, nibbling your lip and ticking off answers and I just… I feel so warm. So happy. And it feels good to feel something again, something that comes from me.”

“Harry…” Draco said as the hot lava bubbled out of him again.

Harry groaned and fell against Draco. Draco supported his weight while Harry trembled lightly in his arms.

“Fuck, Draco, warn a bloke first,” Harry said with a laugh. “That feels so fucking incredible.”

_I see you lying next to me_  
_with words I thought I’d never speak_  
_awake and unafraid_  
_asleep or dead_

“Yup,” Harry said softly, “definitely my new favorite cd.” 

Draco leaned down to kiss the man in his arms. 

Dinner that evening was slow and peaceful between them. They exchanged kisses with bites of roast pork and vegetables. Harry had brought two pies and they shared ample portions of both. They made their way to bed, too tired and full for more than cuddling. But no matter, they were happy to be together.

They slept late into the morning on Boxing Day. Draco was first out of bed, foregoing tea and breakfast so as not to disturb Harry. He wrapped himself in his new jacket and stepped outside to admire the snowy meadow. His wings flexed as he pondered another flight. Could he manage it without anger spurring him on?

It took a few tries but finally he was airborne, soaring through the air above the cabin. He trilled loudly, which became a happy shriek. Turning back, he saw Harry laughing in the cabin’s door, wrapped in his patchwork quilt, his hair sticking up in all directions.

Draco landed with a tumble through the snow. Grinning madly, he stretched his wings out wide while trying to catch his breath. “Did you see me?”

“Yeah. That was amazing. Are you okay for more? I can get my broom, fly with you?”

“That’s - yeah, go get it.”

Harry gave him a smacking kiss then ducked back into the cabin for his flying things. They spent a good hour soaring over the forest, swirling loop-de-loops around each other. They raced from one arbitrary point to another. They sat perched together in the tall trees on the edge of the forest, trading kisses as soft snowflakes fell.

Harry’s cheeks burned red and his eyes shined brightly as he smiled at Draco. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here too.”

\-------

The private room at the back of the Leaky Cauldron looked like a Hogwarts reunion. Everyone had turned up for Seamus Finnigan’s birthday, and partiers spilled out into the main pub. Draco clung nervously to Harry as they made their way through the crowd.

At a table with bright mocktails and cake, Harry left Draco briefly when Luna came in. Draco avoided looking at anyone for too long and focused on nibbling his cake just to look busy. His skin prickled when Weasley and Granger came to sit with him, but neither of them did more than acknowledge him with a nod. 

“Hello you two!” Harry said when he joined them, kissing Granger on the cheek and slapping Weasley on the back. “Wasn’t sure you’d make it!”

“We weren’t sure either. Hugo’s been so fussy lately, we weren’t sure if we should leave him but Molly insisted.” Granger spoke directly to Harry, ignoring Draco entirely.

“We were hoping to see you,” Weasley said, darting a glance at Draco. “It’s been a while.”

“It’s been two weeks!” Harry said with a laugh.

Weasley grinned back, “That’s a long time for us, especially since you’ve not been at work.”

“I’m just trying to make the most of my holiday,” Harry said with a shake of his head. He took Draco’s hand with a wide smile. “And, we ended up staying at the cabin longer than I thought.”

“The cabin?” Granger asked sharply. 

Weasley’s mouth dropped open in shock. “You took Malfoy to your cabin?”

Draco felt his palms itch and start to burn. He tried to breath slowly, to calm his racing heart. He hadn’t needed his gel in so long that he’d forgotten to bring it with him. 

Harry squeezed his hand and pulled him in for a kiss on the temple. “Yes, I did. We spent Christmas there. It was… perfect.”

“Oh.” Granger looked at Draco, then at her gobsmacked husband. “I see.”

“Do you?” Harry asked. Before she could answer, he turned to Draco. “I have something for you.” He transfigured his napkin into a little bird and sent it sailing off into the crowd. “It’s on it’s way over.”

Minutes later, Luna Lovegood joined them at their table with a pink bubbly drink. “It’s so good to see you all! It feels like forever!”

“That’s what I said,” Ron laughed.

“Not you!” Lovegood said, “I just saw you yesterday!”  
“All the same…” 

Lovegood laughed and pulled a long box from her bag. Setting it in front of Draco, she said, “This is a gift for you, from Harry.”

Draco raised his eyebrows and pulled the box closer. “I thought I said I didn’t need a new wand.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Yes, well, much as I appreciate your methods to ensure my continued assistance, the fact remains you need a new wand.”

“Harry brought me some of your hairs, Draco,” Lovegood said softly as Draco pulled the lid from the box. “It was tricky to work into the willow, but I think it’s made a lovely wand that will serve you well.”

“My own hair?”

“Mm, veela hair is rather temperamental, but it usually works well for the veela concerned. Your hair, long as it is, still contains a bit of the new you as well as the old you. And the willow - well it seemed a good match.” Lovegood sipped at her drink and watched him with wide eyes.

“My mother’s wand was willow,” Harry said with a smile. He rested a hand on Draco’s back, idly rubbing circles to calm him.

“Mine too,” Weasley said with a glance at his wife. She bit her lip and looked between Harry and Draco again.

“What if - if it doesn’t - “ Draco couldn’t even finish. Thoughts of a potential firestorm and his subsequent flight were prominent.

“That’s not going to happen,” Harry said softly. “Give it a try Draco.”

Draco nodded and lightly ran his fingers down the wood, following the faint grainlines. His fingertips sparked with expectant energy. Grinning at Harry, he pulled the wand from the box and sighed when it settled comfortably into his palm.

“Lumos,” he said quietly. A bright light shined from the tip and Draco exhaled on a broken sob.

“I knew it!” Harry laughed as he pulled Draco into a tight hug. He squeezed Draco’s cheeks in his hands and gave him a hard kiss on the lips. “I knew it,” he whispered to Draco.

Draco wiped a tear away and used his wand to throw confetti all over the occupants of the table. Bursts of giggles broke out. “I can’t believe it! Love - Luna. Thank you so much! I can’t - This is amazing.” Wiping another tear, Draco stood and pulled Luna up into a hug. 

“You’re welcome Draco. I’m so happy for you!” She pulled away and smiled earnestly. “I’m happy for you both.”

Draco nodded and laughed self-consciously. “Harry.” He pulled Harry up into a hug next. “I don’t know what to say.” But his allure had no problem speaking for him. The thick lava bubbled up and out, wrapping around Harry. He groaned and went slack against Draco, who eased him down into his seat.

“Harry!” Granger exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

“Brilliant,” he slurred with a grin. “It’s fine. Happens every couple of days. It’s fine.” Granger crossed her arms, looking less than appeased.

“It’s Draco’s allure,” Luna said, brushing confetti into a tiny pile.

“No, it’s something else,” Harry said, “something much - “ he broke off with a blush and smiled, “er, nicer.”

“Right, it’s his allure, but… “ Luna paused in thought, “distilled is maybe the word I’m looking for? Stronger, right?” At Harry’s nod, she shrugged. “I had to read up on veela to make the wand and allure is a whole topic unto itself.” Luna winked at Draco, “You’re lucky to have each other.” She threw the confetti at Draco with a laugh, then gathered her drink and her bag and said, “I’m off to meet up with Seamus. I’ll catch you all later?”

Draco continued to caress his wand, looking around for spells to cast. He lifted a stain from Harry’s jeans, shined his own boots, vanished the confetti and cake crumbs from their table, and conjured a bouquet of yellow roses for Granger. A newfound rush of energy flowed through him. He hooked his foot around Harry’s ankle.

“I think I’m ready to go home, if that’s okay with you,” Draco said. He smiled when Harry shuddered from the light wave of allure Draco sent him.

“Yes, absolutely. I’m ready too.” Harry jumped to his feet, awkwardly bumping the table in his haste. “I’ll just go say goodbye to Seamus. Meet me at the fireplace?”

Draco nodded as Harry ran off. With a smirk, he gathered his cloak and the box for his wand.

“He's never taken anyone to his cabin,” Granger said with a frown. 

“Is that so?”

“Not even us,” Weasley added with a nervous glance at his wife. 

Draco raised an eyebrow at her, otherwise passive while he waited. 

“Maybe,” Granger cleared her throat, “maybe you two would like to come over for dinner this week?”

“We’d love to,” Draco said with a wide smile. “Thank you. You two have a good night.” Draco left with a final nod, his steps lighter than they’d been in years.

Harry met him at the fireplace and gave him one more kiss before they rolled through the floo for home.


End file.
